#tw car accident mentioned

[onlytiktoks]

[firewolf111]

Tw: car accident

So I was waiting for my mother to pick me up.

While waiting, I was looking at microlabels to describe my gender identity since nonbinary fits okay, but I was curious if I could find something that fits better.

Suddenly I get a call from my sister.

She tells me that the neighbor is going to be picking me up and my mother is unavailable. It takes her a second to decide to tell me over phone.

My mother was in a car accident.

...

So yeah.

Me and gender are going to have an interesting relationship for a while.

And I don't know how to feel.

Fuck.

[craykaycee]

GOAL IS MET!!!

Thank you all for the support <33 the rest of the original post is under the cut

Greetings, friends. This isn't for me, it's for my friend @tyladoesthings who I met at my local tech school in-person. We both really wish this wasn't necessary, but things have gotten- difficult.

In short, she has been saving and raising money to move out of her family's house, getting to a safe space in a different state after she had a near un-closeting scare back in April. Yesterday, however, she got into a car accident. She's okay physically, but all of those savings are going towards repairs. Her original plan was to get out of there in about 2 weeks, but now that plan is in jeopardy.

Here is a doc of a letter going into more detail about her situation [embedded link, not updated w/ recent info] and you can help support her [in any small way, anything is super helpful] down here:

It also gives more recent info on the state of things. If you can't help out, we'd be super grateful if this was spread around by reblogging. I'm worried for the safety of my friend, especially with her asking me to make this post here because it feels safer for her than on her own blog. She's too kind of a soul to have all of this thrown at her... Please help bring my friend to safety.

In addition, I am doing doodle requests for any contributions over $10

just send a screenshot of the proof to my inbox and I'll cross-check that w/ my friend Tyla [please keep requests SFW]

[u3pxx]

had the stray urge to design the gavin parents. what if kristoph was their favorite what then ...

cw: car crash mention below

thinking abt the "all gavins are terribly nearsighted" headcanon of mine. in my mind, the gavins have no concrete backstory bc i ain't got brain space for that pftt

but. i think they're similar to the skyes in which they lost their parents when they were still young. in a car accident where kristoph and klavier were the only ones who survived.

with klavier fast asleep.

kristoph was 17 and klavier was 9.

i am a "kristoph raised klavier by himself" truther bc of the [waves hands] implications of all that like wow!

(having to become a parent for your little brother the growing resentment of having to be the parent of your little brother but he's your little brother. you must remember that he's your little br

ANYWAYS , what if kristoph was their parent's favorite. like klavier was the happy precocious kid during family reunions yes, but what if bright, brilliant, and promising kristoph was their favorite. have you ever thought about th

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I realised too late that my brother and his girlfriend were working for Sweet Tooth and they basically went on a suicide mission where my dad crashed into their car and then Sweet Tooth crashed into my dad’s car and fed him poison sweets which made him laugh a lot and then he died.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

My biggest fear about learning to drive when I'm old enough is accidentally getting into a crash because I am CONVINCED there is someone staring at me in the back seats. What wizard did I piss off for this endless curse :(

[theocddiaries]

[In a car, rushing] Knuckles: Could you stop yelling at me? I'm trying to concentrate here. Rouge: Oh, sorry, it’s just I’m a little sensitive because I got used as bait because you didn’t want to give that jerk a stupid little figurine! Knuckles: It’s not about the figurine! It’s what it represents! Rouge: Oh, nice! And what about me?! What— Watch out!!! [Knuckles crashes the car into a cake tasting stand, taking Sonic with him. Knuckles gets out of the car to check on Tails.] Knuckles: Oh, the kid! Tails, are you okay?! [hugs him]: I could never forgive myself if something happened to you! Plus, Sonic would kill me. Sonic [trying to push himself up with his elbows]: Don’t worry about that, you almost killed me yourself. Knuckles: How could I not hit you when you ran right into the car, you reckless hedgehog?! Besides, it’s Rouge’s fault, she wouldn't stop yelling at me. Rouge: You know what? Go to hell! I was tortured because of you! [Omega and Shadow approach to check on her.] Omega: WHAT? Shadow: What happened?? Knuckles: Nothing, an old childhood friend from a neighbouring tribe that ended up being enemies with mine and wanted me to return a figurine that my tribe won fair and square. And since I refused, they kidnapped your sister to make me give in. Shadow: Are you okay? Knuckles: Yeah, yeah, I don’t give in easily under pressure. Shadow: I wasn’t talking to you, idiot! Knuckles: What a temper this family has… Sonic: Excuse me, the one who got run over wants a bit of your attention… Can someone have the decency to call an ambulance?! Rouge: No, it's okay, I was just locked up inside the bathroom without my phone. It was hard, but I'll get over it. Thank you for your concern, though. [Shadow and Omega look at her, and Shadow pushes her, making a dismissive gesture] Omega: ROUGE, YOU MATCH PERFECTLY WITH THE ECHIDNA. Shadow: Yes, because you're just as dumb when you want to be. You scared me. Rouge: Haha! You care about me! In the end, this was worth it. Knuckles: You're welcome. Sonic: For the love of… Robotnik [approaches]: Hey, Sonic, how’s it going? Tell me something. Sonic: I think I’ve broken— Robotnik: No, man, about my cake! I win, right??? Sonic: …Look, Eggman, I’ll say this in one simple sentence: go screw yourself, your cake, and this stupid contest! Robotnik: What?? I spent the whole day sabotaging the others to—?? Amy: Sabotage??? Robotnik: …Who said sabotage here? Omega: TRUE. THE CORRECT WORD WAS SABOTAGING. Robotnik: Shut up, piece of trash! Amy: Seriously, it’s impossible to do anything in here, you mess things up even when we’re on the same page!!!! Robotnik: And if you know how I am, why invite me!? This is as much my fault as it is yours!!! [Sonic stands up with Tails’ help.] Knuckles: Damn, Sonic, you can run really well, but you still don’t know how to walk? Sonic: …Look, Knuckles, I’m not kicking you because you broke my leg. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m limping my way to the hospital. Amy [goes to support him by his free arm]: You’re right, Sonic, I’m sorry. [to the group]: Selfish!!!! Robotnik: Selfish, she says… Tell me, who’s gonna return my ten minutes watching baking tutorials??? [to Knuckles]: All because of you, idiot. How did it occur to you to drive a car when you can barely breathe and walk at the same time! Knuckles: Oh, here we go! It’s all my fault! Now it turns out I’m driving a car without a license and I run over a hedgehog and a dozen cakes, and suddenly I’m irresponsible…

[heckitall]

hallo hallo,

just giving a small update! i was recently in a minor car accident (not my car, was not driving) but the incident has left me with some nice bruises and a hurty head. it has also stirred up some unpleasant flashbacks that have kicked my ass (four hour shower and dont remember even getting in or starting it? yes please thank u can i have a side of fries too?)

If you have not heard from me about ur commission, that is the only reason slowing me down right now. i appreciate ur patience with me right now as i spool my threads back together :)

[chickenlover-19]

Was inspired to go thru my wip folder and found the layouts for that comic I teased a while back, and. I really. Want to. Get back to this.

DP has me back in a chokehold, and honestly? I missed it a lot. And I’ve missed the people here.

Was in a really rough spot for a while and for the first time in a little while it feels like I can breathe again. Life update under the cut.

My grandfather passed a little while ago and I kinda dropped off the face of the planet. My family and I weren’t surprised by his passing, but we certainly weren’t expecting it.

On my way to his memorial, I was involved in a head on collision. Miraculously, no serious injuries occurred but my car was totaled. (For the record I was not at fault haha)

For a while, all I could think was “it’s just too much” because it just felt like shit just. would. not. stop. One of my family’s cats passed and a friend of mine was diagnosed with cancer.

Looking back on it, it’s absurd that I didn’t believe that I was struggling with depression. It was a lot. And kind of still is to an extent. But I’m doing better.

Which is why I’m so happy that I’m wanting to draw again, that I’m back in the phandom and reconnecting with friends here.

Anyway, that’s all for for now folks (please, God, let that be all). Happy to be back here and hoping to be more active. Thanks for letting me ramble.

[thisbarbiereallylikesbirds]

YOU MUST TELL...........

how did Shen react to Lou's disappearance? Did she know he had a date with Big Mama? Did Shen know Lou was going to propose?

she knew about the date AND the proposal and...honestly thought he was gonna chicken out

due to the ~commitment issues~ this wasn't the first time Lou Jitsu said he was gonna propose, but it was the first time that he actually bought a ring (instead of panicking while he was at the jewelry store and buying a necklace or something)

at first when shen doesn't hear anything she assumes he didn't actually propose, or he did propose and she said no

after a bit she starts to wonder if she said yes and they ran off and eloped

after a significant amount of time has passed (enough that all future Lou Jitsu movies have been cancelled) she comes to the conclusion that he and Big Mama probably got into some car accident and died

she is obviously very upset by the fact that her two closest friends died, and wishes that she could have more closure, but accepts that she probably won't

...until one day post-movie when she receives a phone call from splinter

then she wants ANSWERS

[milkiie]

how i look doing my makeup to go to physical rehab after being hit by a car

[thefandomenchantress]

Okay, so I’ve had a thought. When Teruko and Ace talk near the elevator in chapter 1, Ace lists off various fears he has. And some of them are normal, like spiders. Or sharp things in general (That one I could make an angsty theory about, but carrying a knife across the kitchen gives me a strangely high amount of anxiety so honestly I kind of understand). But the third one sorta mystified me.

Now, this line could simply be for comedic effect, since it’s so strangely specific compared to spiders and sharp things. And it is kinda relatable, I constantly worry about getting run over when crossing the street.

But I had an idea. My idea has no evidence and is basically a shot in the dark, but I wanted to share it.

Ace used to have a friend named Taylor. They aren’t friends anymore, and most people theorize he and Ace had a falling out, or Taylor died.

I bet you can see where I’m going with this. What if that was what happened to Taylor? A hit-and-run of sorts. That would explain why it’s one of the first fears Ace thinks of, since I’m sure something like that would scar you forever.

But again. I have no evidence, it’s just a random thought I had and wanted to share.

[storiecraft]

new muse! heavily affiliated with @playbarbies.

name: eden murray age: early-mid 20's, verse dependent pronouns: she/they orientation: pansexual, panromantic occupation: aspiring artist, current community college attendee

eden murray lived for her friends. they always made her feel safe when her home life felt anything but. she took any opportunity to spend time with them outside of her hobbies and extracurricular activities. when lenore approached her about a hangout for the last night of their last summer together after high school, it felt like a no-brainer. of course she would be there.

eden dreaded the scattering of their friend group to college, career, and life after high school. they knew it was inevitable, but it didn't make the prospect any easier. still, they were determined to have a good night.

as they drove down the road with the top down, surrounded by their friends, life felt close to perfect. she should've known that perfection wouldn't last, was unachievable. they don't remember who pointed out the strange light in the sky first. they barely remember anything from the rest of the night. everyone keeps telling her that they were all abducted, but she rejects that narrative completely. she's convinced herself they got into a horrible car accident and that they're lucky to be alive, but she won't let herself accept the narrative that the scars along her body came from anything else. even if her nightmares tell her a different story.

[m0ns00n53]

Hi. Yes, this is my insanity [pats on head]. If it sounds familiar, I ripped it right out of my current project because it needs to be its own little stand-alone and I’m just dying to toss it into this void as well. Also because mentally torturing a certain someone (probably not who you’re thinking!) is great catharsis and I highly recommend it😉

Plus this is like, shameless self-promo. You know when you pick up a book and it’s got that two-page hook completely out of context? Or it’s at the end so when little-kid-you picks up the forbidden book to see if the story ends happy, you instead land on the next thriller’s hook-scene and become convinced that all Dean Koontz’s stuff has shitty endings

Welp, that’s this😏

(Oh, content warning: Huge Spoilers for Season 2. dark thoughts, intrusive thoughts—flirting with suicidal, but not quite there. Also, graphic violence to cars, and mention of blood)

If you do happen to find yourself “hooked” (teehee), the fic is

Without further ado:

Anger + Adrenaline (so christened for this post)

03:15

Two hundred horses growl in Jim’s ears, protesting against the two large boulders he’s using to both urge them on and restrain them. He stands still in the darkness, listening to them fight each other, fight the chunks of granite. They’re all too eager to throw themselves into that sturdy acer macrophyllum just sixteen feet ahead, glowing in the headlights.

Jim can relate to that need for movement, for action. It’s why he chose to do this himself. It’s why he just took the jet all the way here. He needs….

In. Out.

He isn’t sure what, exactly, has kept him from releasing the car to its destruction.This road won’t be deserted for long: he should’ve removed the rock from the brake pedal ten minutes ago, gone on to bash out what remained of the windshield and spatter the interior in some of Angus’s bagged blood from Phoenix Medical. Cordoned the whole thing off so they’d have realistic evidence of the crash that has left Jim’s son lying half-dead, twenty miles away in Colorado River Medical—

This is why, he wants to scream as his fist bangs into the hood’s dark, warm metal. This is why Jim stays away. Matilda can judge him as much as she wants, because she won’t ever understand. And that’s fine, as long as she does her job, carries out his orders and minds her own business. She doesn’t have to understand him, or his choices.

In. Out.

She probably doesn’t realize just how easily he can hear her judgment, as well as all the other things she didn’t say during that most recent phone call he’d initiated after too many hours spent tossing and turning. But Jim has always been good at reading between the lines. He didn’t need to witness Dalton’s grief-crazed attack on the Phoenix—the man’s own people….

For a moment, Jim lets himself wonder if there had ever been a time when Jonah might’ve done the same….

Regardless. It had been clear from the very beginning, from the moment Matty had refused to come back and manage the other teams, do her job.

There is a chance…a very high chance….that Angus will leave Jim. Angus will leave him for Ellen….

Ellen.

He doesn’t know what to do with the childish insistence screaming through his head that it’s not fair. This feeling…it’s out of control. He wants to take the precious red Jeep his son loves so much and smash that into scrap as well as this company SUV. After all the years of damages Angus has accrued….

In. Out.

From the very beginning, he was such a destructive kid. Jim had given him the benefit of the doubt when he was seven. Curiosity ran strong in the veins of both sides of the family, and a sealed container of butylithium and nitrogen doesn’t look like much to worry about until it’s too late. That had been on Jim, keeping it in the shed within reach of a precocious little boy who could never keep his hands away from where his mind wanted to go. He still remembers how Ellen had been the exact same way, those inquisitive blue eyes flashing above her mischievous smile, hands always reaching out to touch….

In. Out.

The car had been different. Angus had known exactly what he’d been doing that time.

Still. Jim can’t deny the flash of pride he’d felt, confronting that little perpetrator at the scene of his crime. Nine years old, streaked head-to-toe with dark grease and surrounded by the innards of his victim, Angus had stood tall in their garage, blue eyes remorseful but blond head held high. He hadn’t protested Jim’s charges or his sentence. And watching him tackle it—watching him teach himself how to piece every bit of that engine back together, all on his own….

That had been worth the seven straight weeks of bus fares.

Jim’s pride sours, sticking uncomfortably in his throat. Without further hesitation he circles back around to the drivers’ side of the car, reaches into the footwell and shoves at the granite chunk closest to him—

Ripping his arm out of the way just in time for two hundred horses to charge ahead, roar straight into the solid trunk with an explosion of deafening sound.

There’s no fire. Not that Jim expected one, but with the way things have been going…But that’s one thing that went right, at least. The only light is coming from the tail lights and single headlight that still functions. Passenger’s side.

Jim grabs the designated tree branch—a good size, about half the thickness of his arm and twice as long. Dragging it behind him, he pulls his SAK from his pocket and clicks on its flashlight—pauses.

The place where Angus would’ve sat is a crumpled mess of plastic, aluminum and fiberglass.

In. Out.

Bashing a hole into the windshield has become a non-issue. Jim drops the limb across the jagged edge that remains, halfway into the gaping space and onto what’s left of the driver’s seat. A believable culprit for an impalement….

Without his permission, his brain begins speculating what kind of injuries it’s all covering for. GSW, a stabbing of some kind….

In. Out. There’ll be time to learn about it in all its gory details when he reads the reports stacked on his desk. Another avoidance she knows about, and judges him for.

Which is fine.

As he shines his light over the wreckage once more, Jim lets himself imagine—for the briefest moment—how it would’ve felt to have been behind that wheel. If that had been his foot lifting from the brake, shooting him toward the maple. Would he have been able to leap out, heart pounding with adrenaline, to land in the fallen leaves? Or would he have failed, and turned planted evidence into something all too real….

In. Out.

He bends down and reaches into the little cooler beside him, lifting out the bag of his son’s blood—trying not to notice how heavy it feels, or how it shakes in his hand.

Angus.

Here’s a bonus gif I found in the gif search of Oversight being shitty😒

[randomwriteronline]

His bad leg hurt like hell. Perditus clenched his teeth hard enough for his hairs to begin standing on their ends as he pulled himself out of the wreckage of his Thornatus.

Such a mighty vehicle, reduced to a pile of scraps.

Ain't that the way things go.

He looked down: like some sort of badly cut bread, chunks of fake meat parted to reveal that blasted prosthetic bone he was bound to until his flesh would at last be rotting off of him, scratched and bent and still half melted in places - a cheeky last parting gift from Death after he'd paid the rest of his life to evade it.

The ground beneath him was hard, and rocky, and uncomfortable to crawl upon on all fours. He had no other choice, so the stone kept digging into the heels of his palms and he kept biting back groans.

Then he came.

He made no light, no sound, no nothing, but he had a wire pinned to Perditus's neck, a mental link that grew slack or taut like a puppet's string: and he felt it pull suddenly, and a splendid smile came to into his thoughts before he even turned to see it.

Velika stood. He was tall, like this, unburdened by the broken body he'd forcibly fit himself within for centuries. His back was straight, his hair was long; his eyes had a shine to them, almost mischievous, almost genial, a bright intelligence that made his gaze so innocent, as though he could not hurt even the most insignificant of ants.

Velika stood, like he'd stood before him on that horrible day, identical in every way down to the very clothes he wore, down to his very expression: he stood like'd stood back then, looking every bit divine.

Numb uncaring nihilism squirmed within Perditus.

It fought, it thrashed, it rebelled, it clawed and gnawed and punched and kicked, but its adversary was too great: his last shield was torn apart from within, its guts spilled across oval pupils.

"NO!"

Velika stood, smile dropped.

"NO!" Perditus barked again, scrambling away, pain suddenly an afterthought in the wake of animalistic fear: "NO! NO! NO!"

Velika stood, with eyes wide and still from the surprise.

"NO! NO MORE! NO MORE! NO MORE!"

His hand searched for purchase. It found only a sharp descent which teared into it, ripping its wet flesh apart, and then a long void.

Velika stood frozen and unblinking as the frightened eyes capsized, disappeared from sight, when the body was dragged down the ravine by gravity as the Glatorian still screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and then did not scream anymore.

Perditus laid at the bottom of the cliff, curled up in a strange and ugly pose, at the end of the long intermittent trail of his blood.

He gazed into the rock with the same impossible terror.

Velika stood, staring at his bent neck from so high above him with only a blank expression. Then he simply left, as suddenly as he'd come: with no light, no sound, no nothing.

-

Gelu walked in: "Perditus is dead," he said gravely.

No reply came.

Then softly, very softly, Atakus spoke.

He said something, something indeed, but nobody understood it: his voice was too low, his breaths were too loud. He grasped his chest as he stumbled right into the wall - grasped at his frantically beating heart threatening to break his ribcage and rupture his lungs.

He walked out of the walls that had been his prison unhindered as no Agori nor Glatorian made any move to stop him. The Toa turned to look at them, confused by their paralysis, unsure what to do.

The Potori's escape was not a long one: his trembling limbs gave in as he fell on the sands, mere bio away from where he'd started.

A sound came out of his mouth.

And it rose, and it rose, and it rose, until it became a piercing wail.

From inside the small building, the others watched him. They watched him tear his armor off to beat his chest like a fury; they watched him grab at his wool and pull, pull, pull until it was torn off of him; they watched him fold in on himself, howling like a fox doomed to die in a forgotten rusted trap, as he he slammed his head into the ground over and over.

Raanu shot out an arm to block the Toa trying to reach the screaming thing: "Leave him," he murmured. "He'll be done soon."

"He's hurting himself," the artificial being replied, still puzzled, incapable of understanding, brilliant crystal eyes traveling between the elder and the sorry spectacle so close and yet so far from them, "He's hitting himself - what is happening? What is he doing?"

"He's mourning."

Atakus wailed.

He spoke his mother tongue, his old stone dialect, calling helplessly for many things at once - a mother, a brother, a cousin, a lover, a friend, a healer, a patron, a slave, a warrior, a saint... What could he do? What could he do? There was no wail for a gambler, no wail for a beggar. No wail for someone he could not define, and so his grief-stricken mind cobbled together everything, everything, every form and code he could remember.

A voice reached him eventually, after his chest was battered with bruises and his nails had half shaven his head: the words entered his ears and made a nest within, forgotten immediately - except for one.

He turned his head with wrathful crazed eyes and teeth bared: "FRIEND!" he repeated spitefully: "We were no friends!"

He stood fulminously once more with his dagger in hand, unable and unwilling to recognize who he was talking to, unfocused vision incapable of distinguishing materials or colors or armor designs from one another from within the spiraling throes of his madness.

"If we'd met in the War he would have blown my head open!" he shrieked. "He would have run me over until my bones were fine mist, and I would have done the same to him!"

Just as quickly as his rage had come, it submitted to invincible pain: Atakus shivered harshly, losing his grip on his weapon and twisting his face into a horrible grimace, and clutched again his chest with a horrid strangled cry.

"Oh Perditus, oh Perditus..." he sobbed softly between heaving breaths. He panted as he tried desperately to suck in as much air as he could while sinking to his knees; his teeth gnashed together once more, with his horizontal pupils turned upwards towards his spooked interlocutor lit by a frightening fire and his voice pitched high into a garbled growl: "You have no idea what it means...! To be a debtor for life...! To have each new breathing second be an inescapable fee...! To have every moment of your life stolen from your hands, because that is how you paid your survival...!"

A groan left him, foam building in his mouth, trickling from his lips. He sunk blunt nails into his chest before slamming his fists into the hole his faulty heart called home until it adhered to the rhythm of his furious beating, until this body that stifled him like a too warm blanket followed his orders and kept functioning without needing the appearance that blasted loaner of a god, without forcing him to renew that contract he'd signed so young and foolish and close to an anguishing death.

"You don't understand!" he wailed, "You will never understand!"

Something struck him. Something rattled along the drumming of his infernal organ and sparked a wrong connection in his nerves, setting them on fire, devouring part of his brain.

Uncomprehending eyes watched him grab at the air behind his nape with crazed purpose, bringing it to his mouth where his dull straight teeth bit down on it as though it were a wire: he thrashed around it, pulling with his hands and jerking his head back repeatedly, violently, snarling like a rabid beast and desperately trying to cut something that wasn't there.

"BESTIAL THING!" he growled and spat and hissed, "BLASTED GREEDY BASTARD! HORRIBLE, DIGUSTING, DAMNED--"

With a horrid shriek he jolted again: his jaw snapped open, his fists parted with a sudden motion, and he stumbled back panting as if he'd just lifted the sky back into place.

"I DEFY YOU!" he howled into the nothingness. "I DESERT YOU!"

He laughed, horrid and mirthless, for only a moment.

Then he crumbled upon himself, clutching his chest again with both hands, whimpering in anguish.

"Perditus, Perditus, oh, Perditus..." they heard him sob under his breath like a prayer when they approached him, to bring him back in so that his sputtering heart could rest: "Oh Perditus, giatí me áphēses, giatí me áphēses? Ḗmastan oi mónoi pou mporoúsame na kataláboume, oi mónoi… Oh, Perditus, giatí me áphēses, giatí me áphēses móno se autón ton tromaktikó kósmo?"

-

"Perditus has died to evade me," Velika said with a blank expression.

Pohatu felt his heart stop for a moment.

"Do you think he's made a good choice?"

"What?"

"Do you think he's made a good choice?"

He stared into the Great Being's unmoving eyes.

"What sort of question is that?" he asked, appalled.

"Do you think he's made a good choice?"

"He's dead," the once Toa ignored him. He held his disgustingly soft face in his hands, still shocked. He would not pretend he'd liked the man for what little he'd known of him, not after his trap had almost gotten Kiina and Kopaka injured and was the reason he'd accepted to be stuck amongst these infuriating gods to keep them from trying to kill his siblings and friends; but he had still been a sapient living being like the rest of them, and the way his end was spoken of made his flesh seize within him until his mouth tasted nauseous and his vision was swimming. "He's dead - Mata Nui... What happened to him?"

"He's died to evade me." Velika repeated once more, empty tone unchanged. "Do you think he's made a good choice?"

Patience depleted, Pohatu snapped: "What does that even mean?"

"Would you consider death a viable path to escape your situation?"

Their brown eyes mirrored each other as they both stared.

"How are you this crosswired when you have no wires to cross?" the once Toa asked back.

Velika's mouth opened: "Ah ah," he said without intention. The sound fell from his parted lips like change from a broken vending machine. "Would you consider death a viable path to escape your situation?"

He stood across him, blocking the door completely with his silhouette: his back was straight, his head held still.

Pohatu bolted further away from him, suddenly terribly frightened, hitting his spine hard against the wall: "What is wrong with you!" he cried out.

Velika remained perfectly still, a pillar of salt unmoved by any and all passions: "Would you consider death a viable-"

His hand startled.

The words died on Velika's tongue, and he widened his eyes. He looked down to his palm: his ring finger stood out, dislocated, as if it had been yanked or bent with great force.

A strange hissed whine left him.

His eyes (not as blank as before, alight with pain and something close to fear) settled back on the Toa with a snapping movement as he hurriedly held his injured appendix in its twin: "You'll answer later." he decided for him.

His clothes rustled like leaves caught in a temperamental wind as he walked away at a quick pace, relieving the doorframe of his terrifying presence - abandoning only the vague shape of his own afterimage there, like a large spot of darkened static lingering in the vision of one who has looked into the sun too long.

Pohatu waited, and waited, until the sound of his steps disappeared.

"There's something wrong with him," he murmured.

"I noticed," Takanuva tried to joke from his hiding spot as his armor slowly reflected the light in the room in a way that colored it white and gold once more.

But his older brother did not laugh, gazing past the door, still fearing the return of that unnatural empty voice, those unnatural empty eyes: "I mean it," he whispered, dead serious, thinking of Bohrok: "There's something wrong with him."

-

shout-out to The End Of Hope by @bread-into-toast, which grabbed me by the fucking throat this evening and is the sole reason any of this got written. wonderful zine. delightfully unsettling. go read it.